Friar Tuck

by Robert Alexander Wason

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  THE FRIAR GIVEN TWO WEEKS

  As Friar Tuck and the woman came out of the mouth of the ravine, TyJones came out of the back door of the old cabin. He stopped a moment,lookin' at 'em, rubbed his eyes an' looked again. Then he walkedtowards 'em. He spoke somethin' to the Friar, and the Friar answeredit. The woman didn't pay any heed at all; but went around the newcabin to the door which was on the other side. Three moreCross-branders rode in, and Ty Jones shook his fist at the Friar.

  Ol' Tank was cussin' under his breath for comfort, but it didn't keephim from gettin' fidgetty. "Isn't the' no sort of a tool, Horace," heblurted out, "that'll stretch out your hearin' the way these fieldglasses stretch out your eyesight? I'd be willin' to have one of myears run as wild as my free eye, forever after, if it could just hear,now, what Ty Jones is a-speakin' to the Friar. I'm beginnin' to getnervous."

  We all felt about the same way; but it was about two miles down towhere they were, so all we could do was to watch.

  Olaf had come with us, leavin' Oscar with Kit, and now Horace turnedto him and said: "You and Promotheus know more about Ty Jones 'n therest of us. I have never tried to pump Promotheus, but now I want youto tell us what you think he'll do with the Friar."

  They said 'at Ty was generally purty cold blooded, and likely to takeenough time in gettin' rid of a feller to make it purty hard to telljust how it had been done; but that when he once let go of himself, hedidn't care what happened, and if the Friar angered him about thewoman, the chances were 'at the Friar would never leave the ranchalive.

  The shadows were beginnin' to fall, down in the valley; but Ty and theFriar kept on talkin', Ty wavin' his hands now and again, while theFriar stood straight with his hands hangin' easy at his side. Icouldn't stand it any longer.

  "I believe 'at a feller could get almost to 'em without bein' seen, bygoin' along the edge o' the ravine," sez I; "and I'm goin' to do it.It'll be dark in a few minutes. If you want me to hustle to the Friar,wave a torch up and down; if you want me to come back here, wave itsideways."

  "I'm goin', too," sez Horace.

  "So 'm I," sez Olaf and The.

  "Well, that's full enough," sez I, "and the rest of ya keep a sharpwatch, and also keep the hosses ready, in case we need 'em."

  The four of us started down the side o' the slope at good speed. Therewere only two places on the way down where we caught sight o' theranch buildin's; but just before we reached the top o' the cliff, weheard a sound down below in the ravine. Glancin' cautious over theside, I saw the Friar comin' back alone, on foot and leadin' his hoss.

  I drew back and whispered to the others, and we felt purty blamecheap. We hardly knew what to do, as the Friar was likely to see us ifwe tried to run back to our look-out before he reached the place wherethe path came up out o' the ravine, and most of all, we didn't wanthim to know 'at we were follerin' him.

  He had passed us by this time, so we looked over the edge o' theravine at him. He was walkin' slow with his head down, and his handsin his pockets. "He'll ride home slow," sez I; "and we can easy beathim."

  "Hush," sez The, draggin' us back from the edge, "the's two fellersfollerin' him."

  "Horace," I said, quick and firm, so as not to have any back-talk,"you go about forty yards up the ravine, and keep your eyes on thesefellers. Don't shoot 'em unless they try to pass you. Hurry, now! I'vegiven you the most important post. If you shoot, shoot in earnest."

  Horace stooped over and ran to where a rock jutted out. "Now, then,"sez I, "as soon as these fellers pass us, we'll try to bowl 'em overwith one stone each, and then drop back out o' sight. We don't want toshoot unless we have to."

  "They're wavin' us to come back," whispered The, who had took a glanceat our look-out.

  "Never mind," sez I, lookin' down and seein' the two fellers crouchedover and sneakin' after the Friar. "Now then, throw and drop back."

  We stood on our knees, threw one stone each, and dropped back. Theyrattled in the ravine below, and we heard a sharp yelp of pain. I hadonly dodged away from the edge of the ravine and ran to where Horacewas.

  "One feller was hit in the shoulder and knocked down," sez he; "but hegot up again right away, and both of 'em ran back."

  "What did the Friar do?" I asked, not darin' to look over, lest he seeme.

  "He turned around and started back," sez Horace. "I was afraid he'dsee my head again' the sky, so I pulled it back. I haven't heard himmove since those fellers started to run."

  "Well, I don't believe 'at even the Friar would be daffy enough to goback," sez I; "so we'll just lay here and listen. They signalled usfrom above a while back, but they've stopped again."

  We waited some time without hearin' any one pass us, and then wesneaked up along the edge of the ravine. Before long we saw the Friarcome up the side. He paused on top and looked back, then mounted andstarted for Olaf's at a slow shuffle. As soon as he was well underway, we pushed for the look-out, and mounted.

  "Slim, you and Tillte wouldn't be missed as soon as the rest of us; soyou trail the Friar, while we try to beat him home," sez I. "If youneed us, shoot. Otherwise come in as unnoticeable as you're able."

  We reached Olaf's, had our saddles off and the hosses turned loosebefore the Friar rode in. His face was white, but this was the onlything 'at showed what he was goin' through. We made a big fuss abouthis gettin' back all right and asked him plenty o' questions, withoutoverdoin' it enough to make him suspicious. He answered our questionsright enough, but he didn't open up and talk free. Slim and Tilltejoined us at supper without bein' noticed.

  After supper we gathered around the fire in Olaf's settin' room, andthe Friar gave us a purty complete account of what had happened. Hesaid that it was his old girl all right; but he said that the' wassomethin' the matter with her, that she didn't recognize him evenafter he had made himself known to her. He said she seemed dazed-likeand not to take any interest in anything.

  He said they had walked down the ravine together, and she had told himthat she was comfortable enough but not happy. That she had lostsomething which she could not find; but that she was getting strongersince havin' come out to the mountains. He said 'at when Ty Jones saw'em together, he had carried on somethin' fierce, and had ordered herinto the house. Then he had turned on the Friar and told him that hewould give him two weeks to leave the state and after that his lifewouldn't be safe in it. He said he had tried to reason with Ty; but itwasn't any use; so he had just come away.

  "If he had set upon you, would you have shot him?" asked Tank.

  "I didn't have anything to shoot him with," sez the Friar. "I wascareful to leave my weapons behind."

  "Well, you didn't show much judgment in doin' it," sez Tank. "He mighthave sent a couple o' fellers after ya, and finished you out in thedark somewhere so 'at we never could 'a' proved it on him."

  "I did think for a minute that some one was follerin' me," sez theFriar. "I heard a rattle of stones and a cry a few hundred feet behindme in the ravine; but I think it was some animal slippin' down theside."

  "Like as not," sez Tank. "If it had been any o' Ty's gang, theywouldn't have give it up so easy; but another time we'll some of us goalong with you; so as to get your last words anyhow, if so be 'atyou're bent on suicide. What do you intend to do now?"

  "That's the worst of it," sez the Friar. "I don't know what to do. Shesaid she did not think she was married; but she was not sure; and Tyrefused to give me any satisfaction about it."

  "Isn't the' any law out here, at all?" sez Horace. "Seems to me asthough there ought to be some way to get at Ty Jones."

  "What would you charge him with?" asked the Friar. "She is not beingabused or kept a prisoner, she says she is comfortable and gettin'stronger--I can't think of any way to bring him under the law. If youhad not taken the law into your own hands in regard to his two men, wemight have made the claim that he was behind them in this; but really,I do not see where we have any just grounds to go to law."

  "That little mat
ter o' the Greasers don't hobble us none," sez ol'Tank. "Don't you get the idee that you're bound in any way by this.The whole country would uphold us; so if you want to use it as alever, just make your claims again' Ty to the law officers, and we'lltell 'em 'at the Greasers confessed 'at Ty put 'em up to it."

  This seemed to us like sage advice; and we all chipped in and urgedthe Friar to act on it. Laws are all right, I haven't a word to sayagain' laws. Fact is, I believe 'at we're better off for havin' a fewthan not; but after all, laws come under the head of luxuries likediamonds and elevators and steam heat. We all know there is suchthings, and we haven't any objections to those usin' 'em who canafford it; but most of us have to wear cut-glass, pack in our ownwood, do our climbin' on foot or hossback, and settle our troubles inour own way with as little bother as possible. When you figure it downto the foundation, laws depend on public opinion, not public opinionon laws; and all the public opinion worth takin' into account wouldhave said 'at we had done the right thing with those Greasers. Ifthey'd 'a' tried to law us for a little thing like this, it would havestarted an upraisin' which would have let the law see how small ashadow it really does throw when it comes to a show-down.

  The Friar didn't answer us right away, and when he did, it was in themost discouraged voice I'd ever heard him use. "I'm in the dark,boys," sez he, "I don't know what to do. Even if I could find some wayto take her away from Ty Jones, I do not know what to do with her. Sheis not herself, she needs care and protection--and I am not in aposition to supply them. I have an income of three hundred and fiftydollars a year, which is much more than enough for my own needs, for Ilive mostly upon the hospitality of my friends as you well know"--wealso knew 'at he spent most of his money in helpin' those who neversaw enough money to get on intimate terms with it; while all they gavehim in return was a little meal and bacon for savin' their souls anddoctor-bills. "I don't know what I could do for her, even if I had theright to take her away from him," continued the Friar. "My life hasbeen a good deal of a failure; and I--"

  "For the love o' common sense, Friar!" broke in Horace. "You don'tseem to have the smallest degree o' judgment. You know mighty well 'atI'm bothered to death to know what to do with my money. You get her ifyou can, send her to any sort of a sanitarium you want to, and I'llfoot the bills. Don't you ever sit around and whine about money in mypresence again. It worries and disgusts and irritates me--and I cameout here for rest. You talk about faith and takin' no heed for themorrow, and such things; but you act as though you were riskin' aman's soul when you gave him a chance to be of some little use in theworld."

  The Friar was purty well overcome at this; but figure on it the bestwe were able, we couldn't see just how to get a man's wife away fromhim without provin' that he had abused her. It was a complication, anyway we looked at it; so we all went to bed in the hope that one of uswould have a lucky dream.

  We didn't have any more idees next mornin' than we'd had the nightbefore; so after breakfast, the Friar took a walk and the rest of ussat around in bunches talkin' it over. About ten o'clock a fellernamed Joyce who lived about fifteen miles east of Olaf came by on hisway for a doctor, his boy havin' been kicked above the knee and hisleg broke. The Friar could patch up a human as good as any doctor; sowe went after him, knowin' that this would be the best way to take hismind off his own troubles, and the' was a look o' relief in theFriar's face when he rode away with Joyce.

  I never knew any feller yet who didn't spend a lot o' time wishin' hehad a chance to loaf all the laziness out of his system; but the factof the matter is, that work gives us more satisfaction than anythingelse. A wild animal's life is one long stretch after enough to eat;but he's full o' health an' joy an' beauty. On the other hand, put onein a cage and feed it regular and it turns sick immediate. What weneed is plenty o' the kind o' work we are fitted for--this is theanswer to all our discontented feelin'; and what the Friar was bestfitted for, was to help others.